A Mother's Words
by Roxie Zephyr Jocelyn
Summary: Starring: Kudo Yukiko, Kudo Shinichi. For most, the nightmare has ended. The Black Organization has been overthrown. But for one mother, the nightmare is endless. Yukiko contemplates her son and her failure in his life...


A/N: This is a short fic set at the end of the dark, nightmarish journey that led to their euphoric triumph over the Black Organisation. But, the nightmare was not over, especially for a mother who feared for her son. Sitting by Shinichi's bedside, Kudo Yukiko finds herself contemplating the boy that is her son. As usual, the characters of Detective Conan do not belong to me but to their esteemed creator.

A/N 2: This is actually the revised version of the story. I am most ashamed to admit that I had some rather glaring errors in the original one that unintentionally went against the canon plot. While this still has some minor details that might deviate from the canon, I hope that it is closer to the canon than the previous one was.

With that said, ENJOY!

Info:

hakase - the Japanese title for 'doctor'

Kudou Shinichi - Jimmy Kudo

Kudou Yukiko - Vivian Kudo

Kudou Yuusaku - Booker Kudo

Mouri Ran - Rachel Moore

A Mother's Words

Kudou Yukiko was a woman who loved to talk.

Everyone who met the Kudou couple would know that Yukiko was the voice. Her love of chattering was noted by all, especially in the presence of her silent husband. Not that it was irritating or annoying. On the contraire, it was this talent that gave birth to her power of persuasion on screen, this talent that made her the life of every party, the desired guest of every house. On subjects she was interested in, she spoke with passionate wisdom. On subjects of extreme delicacy, she spoke with soothing diplomacy. Her words carried intelligence and wit, her voice carried melody and cheer. Yukiko was a fascinating individual to talk to, with words on anything and everything.

Except when it came to Kudou Shinichi, her only son.

In the dead of the night, she had snuck into the hospital, taking full advantage of the night nurse's distraction at the appearance of the handsome Sandman and the seductive embrace of slumber. Her footsteps were light as she threaded through the corridors, alone in the presence of silent whitewashed walls. Nobody had expected her to be here, certainly not the startled moth whose wings were set aflutter when she opened the room door, stepping into the room. Yukiko was still supposed to be in America with her husband but to her, something more urgent awaited her in Japan. Everyone would be shocked to see her here when they returned the next morning but one would remain calm, cool, collected, unaffected. After all, Shinichi could hardly be expected to jump out of his skin in shock when he laid in unconscious slumber.

Tears sprang unbidden into her eyes as her gaze took in the bandages, stained by bold crimson splotches, a masterpiece of the artist of death. Shinichi was seventeen but in her eyes, he was still her son, her treasured child, her precious baby. To think that he had suffered at the merciless hands of fate, that he had faced destruction and lived in his nightmares, chased by demons that haunted him even in his unconsciousness, her heart broke, shattered by the knife of anguish. As she sat on the bed, carefully easing her limp son into her lap, she could not help the shudder that strolled down her spine, the frost of his body piercing through her skin to her very core, the clammy coldness of impending death. Her mind went blank. Yukiko was living the worst nightmare of every mother the possibility that she might have to bury her son. Shaking her head in denial, her lips parted in a silent cry as her hands tightly involuntarily around his slender breakable figure. No, she would not let him die, she would not let him leave her. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she began to sob in earnest, anguish and guilt eating her up from within. Shinichi was her son. She would not let him leave her.

Even though she had left him so many times all those years ago.

When Yukiko first left Shinichi, choosing to travel the globe with her husband, her son had been three years of age. Despite his tearful pleading and frightened cries, she had left him struggling in the embrace of a disapproving Agasa-hakase. Yukiko simply would not be deterred, completely convinced that the parting was for the best: for both Shinichi and herself. Mostly, she was convinced that it was best for her. She was young, an adventurous spirit taking baby steps into motherhood. Getting pregnant and giving birth was exciting, an exhilarating new turning point in her life. Even more satisfying was the beautiful baby boy she had a hand in giving life too, her pride, perfection in looks and intelligence all wrapped in a bundle of joy. But, she was young and the young got bored pretty fast. It was not long before caring for Shinichi became a burden and being a mother became a chore. She felt stifled by her responsibilities, chained by obligations. And when the chance came to escape, she seized it. But, apart of her reason for leaving Shinichi came from her maternal instincts that were only just beginning to awaken. She was young. She was inexperienced. And, Shinichi was precious to her. She did not want to think of her son as a guinea pig in the hands of an ignorant scientist, a helpless infant in the hands of an ignorant mother. Unable to trust herself, feeling bored but mostly inadequate, she left.

However, her emotions betrayed her. Where freedom was something she desired, longed for with passion it had become a suffocating noose around her neck, growing tighter and tighter each day with every tug of misery - she missed her son. Nights of party, usually festive with the brilliance of lights and laughter, were like a dim dying candle flame, nothing compared to the luminescence of Shinichi's blue eyes, brilliant with joy and gently glimmering with sleep every night when she would rock him in her arms, warding away the demons of the shadows that threatened him in the realm of dreams. The attentions she received, the accolades, the praise and the glamour were but pale substitutes to the absolute trust Shinichi placed in her, giving her his complete attention and unconditional love simply because she was his mother. The emotional ache that she had never realized was within her blossomed into a physical pain with every day that her ears rang with Shinichi's imaginary laughter and every night that she would dream of his warmth. She was a free spirit who would always resent responsibilities and obligations but when it came to her son - he gave her life meaning, he gave her purpose. Six years she had been traipsing around the globe. It was time for her to return home.

But, when she finally returned to him, ready to take up the role of mother, Shinichi had grown into a young man of seven years. She had left him waiting for her, all cute pouts and annoying whines, cherubic cheeks and tearful eyes. She was looking forward to seeing her son again, vowing to make up for lost time. But when mother and son were finally reunited, she could barely recognize him. Gone were the scruffy hair and large blue eyes, chubby cheeks and roly-poly figure. The young man before her was still a child but clearly no longer her baby. His hair was casually messy, styled by the playful hands of the wind, his deep blue eyes soul-piercing in their intensity, windows to his sharp intelligence and his pose was that of casual carefree poise so much like Yuusaku. His chubbiness had faded in the wake of delicate features, high cheek bones and an elegant chin, clearly a heart-breaker even at such an early age, cloaked in unconscious charisma and a hint of mischievous spirit so much like Yukiko herself. But, despite the amazingly familiar blend of both her husband and herself in him, Yukiko could not recognize the stranger before her. Shinichi did not have the luxury of a secure childhood that most children had and though he was only seven, he had the bearing of a young man mature beyond his years. He seemed to Yukiko more like a miniature adult than the child that he really was. Still, it had not deterred her. Over the course of seven years, she attacked her role as mother with vengence, actively playing a part in her son's life. But, it soon became clear that a wedge had been driven between them, that they were now seperated by an invisible yet very tangible barrier. Shinichi would never confide in his mother, spending more time at Agasa-hakase's house or the Mouris' house than at his own. It was then that the realization struck home. Shinichi had grown up without Yukiko - in the care of Agasa-hakase and in the company of Ran. The damage had been done by her absence. She could no longer recognize her son. It was a mere month after Shinichi's fourteenth birthday that Yukiko finally made her choice. Feeling insecure, doubting her place in Shinichi's life, she had left.

Then came the time of turmoil, a turning point in all their lives wrought in misery and terror. The next time Yukiko met her son face-to-face, he had been poisoned, turned into his seven-year-old self, hunted by phantoms in black who sought to end his life. She had clung on to him then, worshiping his cuteness and generally fussing over his sudden reversal into childhood. Yukiko sensed that her son suspected her sudden affections to be the product of guilt, a desire to make up for lost time or simply the actions of an adoring girl who had the privilege of being given a life doll. Admittedly, those were part of reasons but surprisingly very small parts. Her main reason was not something as complex as guilt or something was unfathomable as innocence. It was one emotion that had spurred her one, a single strike to the heart, simple, hard and powerful: fear. For the first time, Yukiko was aware of just how close she came to losing her son. She feared letting go of him, terrified that he would not return. She was his mother, wanting to protect him, to envelope him in her love, even if she had to ship him with her over to America. But, Shinichi had made his choice. He would not leave with her, he would not leave those he loved behind his surrogate family, his friends, his Ran. He would not leave them like she had left him, even in fear, even in insecurity, he would not leave them. Yukiko was struck by how strong Shinichi had become, how independent, how self-reliant. Feeling unwanted and unneeded, she left.

And, she regretted all the times she had ever left him.

Sitting by his bedside, his cold hand caressed in hers, Yukiko was once again speechless just as she was all those years ago.

She had never found the words to explain to Shinichi, the child, why she left him the first time, never found the words to explain her inadequacy, how she had thought herself to be unworthy of him not he unworthy of her. She never told him how she had cried those few nights when she missed his warmth curled up in her bed by her side. She had never told him that fear was what kept her away, fear that she would harm him in her ignorance, believing him to be in better hands than her own.

She had never found the words to explain to Shinichi, the mini-teen, why she left him again. She never found the words to soothe him, telling him how proud she was of the way he had grown up, of the man he had become. She never comforted him, whispering gently of how in those lonely nights, she had never truly left him, constantly thinking of him from afar. She had never told him that when she left him again, it was not because she did not love him but because she could not bring herself to stay and be reminded everyday of her failure in being his mother. She feared that her absence would make them feel like complete strangers and she could not face the fear of wondering if she would ever know her son when she was supposed to be the one who knew him best.

She had never found the words to explain to Shinichi, her son, why she had left him yet again. She never found the words to embrace him in love and protection, to spin him tales of security, to rescue him from his life-threatening misery. She never explained to him that she had never stopped loving him and never would. She never reassured him that having Shinichi was not a moment of regret in her life but a moment of absolute joy, that her sadness came not from having him as a burden but from the thought that she would be a burden to him, unneeded, unwanted. She never told him how his strength inspired her own, how she had left him in hopes that she could help Yuusaku battle the Black Organisation with her own media influence, this time with the intention of returning and earning her place in his life.

Kudou Yukiko was a woman who loved to talk. But, when it came to her son, there were a lot of things she had left unsaid. When it came to Shinichi, Yukiko always found herself struck speechless.

No more. As she leaned her forehead against Shinichi's, her sobs receding to ragged gasps of tumultuous emotion, her breath warming her son's cheeks, Yukiko vowed no more. No longer would she abandon her son to face the unknown alone. No longer would she allow silence to come between them. No more.

That night, under the watchful eye of the moon, speech came, entering her mind unbidden and falling on her lips unthinkingly.

Sitting on the bed, her injured son cradled in her gentle arms, Yukiko finally found the words she needed the words to express her gratitude, her unworthiness, her pride, her humility, her fear, her protectiveness and above all, her love for her only son.

'Mummy's here.'


End file.
